Chapter 30: Were? Where?

I took over organising the tents when we camped after that, making sure that the one I shared with Aedan was near Zev's, and both bordered the woods so they could sneak out together. It was cute. I contemplated trying to change tents again – Bodahn had found more canvas, we could do it – but I couldn't think of a way to do it without arousing suspicion in everyone else. Both Aedan and Zevran were suddenly much more cheerful. I wasn't sure whether it was knowing that I didn't disapprove, or just that they were having more sex.

The woods changed as we left the Korcari Wilds and headed into the Brecilian Forest. It was less swampy, greener, less foreboding. We had already discussed our strategy in dealing with the Dalish, and knew that their scouts could find us at any point, so we avoided talking about anything important. It was kind of fun, wandering through the woods. We chased off a few bears, but otherwise had nothing to worry about. We kept Zevran somewhere prominent, hoping they'd be less likely to shoot us if they saw him first. Aedan and Alistair huddled protectively around me, despite my insistence that they didn't need to.

A voice called out from the woods somewhere.

"Turn back now, Shemlen, or face the consequences!" Startled, we all stopped walking, and were suddenly surrounded by two dozen angry-looking elves with bows drawn and pointed at us. They were all shorter and slighter than even Zevran, wearing armour in greens and browns that would blend into their surroundings.

Aedan answered. "Hold, friend. We are Grey Wardens, and we need to speak with your Keeper Zathrian. We have information on the ... sickness, currently afflicting several of your clan."

There was a whole bunch of chatter in Elven, which resolved into two voices, clearly arguing. Aedan glanced at me and I shook my head. No, I don't know Elven. How could I possibly? Finally one of them turned to face us and spoke in the common tongue.

"We do not tolerate outsiders, Shem. Either leave peacefully, or we will be forced to remove you. It's up to you."

"As much as I hate to say it, friend, you need us right now. And you may have us outnumbered, but I have two mages, two Grey Wardens, an Antivan Crow, a Qunari warrior, the best archer in Ferelden, a mabari war dog, and a sodding golem. If we're going to do this by force, we win. Now take me to Zathrian before the golem gets cranky."

I had to give Shale credit for looking cranky very, very well. Or very poorly, depending on which side you were on, I supposed. She stomped forward, the ground trembling beneath her feet, right up to the one who'd spoken. She turned to look at Aedan.

"Is it certain it doesn't want me to squish this soft creature? It would make such a refreshing crunching sound when it pops."

Several of the elves backed away, leaving their leader pale-faced and shaking.

"We will take you to Zathrian."

"Good choice."

We followed the leader, but couldn't fail to notice that his comrades didn't lower their weapons, keeping them trained on us until Zathrian dismissed them. The Keeper was polite, on the surface, but clearly deeply suspicious of us. He seemed very, very tired, and I almost felt sorry for him. Until I remembered the werewolves.

We had discussed our options, and no one was okay with us allowing the werewolves to slaughter the elves, but we were equally uncomfortable slaughtering the werewolves. Wrong had been done on both sides, but it began with Zathrian and his need for vengeance, and we had agreed that one way or the other, he needed to end it. Aedan planned to try to talk to him alone, and then call on me to back him up as a 'seer' if he couldn't convince him to voluntarily end the curse. If we were lucky, we might not even have to go into the forest.

Once Zathrian agreed to speak with Aedan, we were given leave to explore their camp. I decided to aid in my 'seer' reputation by going to visit the halla caretaker, looking into the eyes of the unhappy animal and then 'mysteriously' coming up with the solution – to check her mate for injuries. The elf was embarrassingly grateful and I hurried to decline any reward. Wynne offered to aid the Keeper's First, Lanaya, in trying to heal their wounded men. Otherwise we gathered in a small group near the large campfire and tried to look non-threatening. I asked around about Aneirin, and was able to confirm for Wynne that he was alive and well.

After probably two hours of talking inside the Keeper's Aravel, Aedan finally emerged. One look at his face and I knew he hadn't been successful. He gestured to me, and we stepped into the trees, whispering to avoid being overheard.

"He's too angry. I'm not getting anywhere. He's raving about wanting them all dead. Think you can do anything?"

"I'll try. Listen, I've got an idea, but it's going to suck for you. I want to get him talking about his children, about wanting revenge. The most expedient way I can think of to do that is to tell him the story of your family and Arl Howe. Perhaps he can see that there is life after something terrible like that. But ... it means dragging you through it, making you talk about it. If I can't get to him any other way ... do you want me to try?"

His expression was pained, and I wished I hadn't asked, but he slowly nodded. "If that's what it takes to avoid slaughtering those creatures, then yes. Try it."

I hugged him and kissed his cheek softly, and then we went back to the Keeper's Aravel. Aedan introduced me and I nodded my head respectfully.

"This Grey Warden expects me to believe you are some sort of seer."

"Yes, Keeper." I was going for humble. Apparently I failed.

"Don't you 'yes Keeper' me. You want me to believe, you're going to have to work harder than that, girl."

"Very well. Allow me to be brutally honest. You are a several-centuries-old blood mage. When you were a young man, your son was killed, and your daughter raped and left for dead by bandits. You were so enraged when she killed herself rather than give birth to the child of rape that you cast a spell using your own blood. You summoned a spirit and bound it to the body of a wolf, basically inventing lycanthropy. And as long as the curse survives, so do you. Conversely, as long as you survive, so does the curse. The initial wolf you created, who went by the name Witherfang, is now the Lady of the Forest. She, and many of the werewolves, have become sentient again. They are aware of their curse and it causes them agony to remain so, but they refuse to return to their beast-like state.

"They ambushed you looking for revenge for causing their curse. They thought it would force you to talk to them. The Lady wishes only for death, and the only way for that to happen is for you to decide to release her – and the rest of the wolves – from the curse. Doing that will kill you and her, but the alternative is several of your clan will become werewolves, just like Danyla already has. And shame on you for lying to Athras, by the way. He deserves the truth.

"Your anger, your need for vengeance, is what is responsible for all of this tragedy. Do you really think your daughter would want all of those people to remain cursed? Would she wish those of your own clan to become so? The men who violated her, who killed your son, have been dead for centuries. Most of the werewolves in this forest were innocents who got caught, and have done nothing to wrong you or to deserve this fate. Unless you release them, more will perish. And all for what? To preserve your own life? To exact vengeance on the world at large for how miserable you are?

"You would have us kill Witherfang to try to fashion some sort of potion for your own clan members to prevent them from changing. Which may or may not work, let's be honest. The Lady would see everyone released from this curse, including all of your friends. Which of you is seeing things more clearly? It is not you, Zathrian.

"If you released the curse, you could join your family with the Creators. Feel at peace again. Wouldn't that be worth it on its own? Vengeance is a hollow thing to live for. In all these centuries you've never found a way to move on. Don't you think it's time?"

I didn't stop, even when his angry veneer cracked and he was left sobbing, broken. He had caused centuries of tragedy. He needed to hear it. And if I was lucky, breaking through meant I wouldn't have to drag Aedan through hell.

He begged to be left alone, and we complied. I stopped, just outside, shuddering. For all that I despised what he'd become, I also understood it. And no matter how necessary, watching someone break isn't much more pleasant than watching them die. Aedan put his arm around my shoulder and we headed over to join the rest of the group. They looked at me speculatively, and all I could do was shrug.

We set up our tents out of the way but within the Dalish camp, where Lanaya indicated. Aedan and Bodahn went to chat with the craftsman, and I sat by the fire, trying to let the normal chatter and companionship of camping together soothe me. The Dalish offered for us to join them in their meal, and I managed to convince everyone to just not tell me what the meat in the stew was. It was delicious. Once we had been accepted, everyone in the Dalish camp was at least polite. They seemed a little freaked out about Zevran, but given that he probably offered to have sex with half of them, it was an appropriate response.

We slept the night in our little area, apart from but within the Dalish camp. In the morning, Zathrian summoned Aedan and me. He had collected himself, and was back to the arrogant attitude that I disliked from the game, but at least he'd apparently thought a bit about things. He agreed to go into the ruins with us and talk to the Lady of the Forest, and if everything was as we said, he would agree to end the curse. My biggest concern was how we were going to avoid slaughtering our way through the werewolves' ranks. I doubted they'd respect a white flag or similar gesture, but hoped that perhaps if they saw Zathrian with us, we could convince them to talk. We agreed to wait one more day while he made arrangements with Lanaya and the rest of his clan, and set out in the morning.

A celebration of sorts was held that night, a goodbye party. It was the closest they could come to the descriptions of ancient elven ceremonies used prior to an elder going into prolonged hibernation. I vaguely recalled from a codex entry that in ancient Arlathan, elves were immortal and so after centuries they would go to sleep for a long time. I wasn't clear on the concept, really, but didn't want to risk causing offense by pressing for details. Zathrian admitted to the clan what he had done, creating the curse that had led to the werewolf problem they currently faced. He received much more sympathy and understanding than I expected. We tried to stay out of their way, huddling together in our little area, but couldn't help but hear the singing. I couldn't understand the words, but it was haunting and beautiful. I could see Leliana trying to memorise what she was hearing.